


Goods Dreams

by Klokateer30



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Dream Sharing, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Flying Dreams, Gen, Insomnia, Mild-Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klokateer30/pseuds/Klokateer30
Summary: Pickles confesses his inability to dream.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. I'm new to the Metalocalypse fandom world, (I know, I'm late to the party), and have been inspired by some fantastic stories you guys have written. I wanted my first story to focus on my two favourite characters and thought involving them in a one-shot fic would be a good place to start. This fic was written as platonic, but you can interpret it however you like. Anyway I hope you enjoy. This takes place between seasons 3 & 4.

Pickles tossed and turned as he tried to drift off to sleep. He'd been suffering this bolt of insomnia for the past three days now and was starting to get rather pissed off. Normally he had no issues with falling into a comatose state; his pre-bed diet of bourbon saw to that. As of late though, it just wasn't happening for the dreadlocked metal god.

He held the reoccurring thoughts, whirling around like a hurricane his mind, solely responsible for these sleepless nights. Every time Pickles closed his eyes, his parents disapproving scorns were there staring through him with disappointment. Lately, however, it was the thoughts of pure hated for his older brother that didn't seem to shift from his brain. 

Seth, to put it bluntly, was an asshole and the cause of Pickles dangerous drug ventures. Ever since the age of six when his brother burnt down the garage and blamed it on him, Pickles coped by drinking. And that drinking was then later accompanied by drug use, as Seth rode Pickles' coattails. As the talented musician's career flourished, Seth would bask in the parental pride that should've been earmarked for Pickles. But as far as Pickles was concerned it didn't matter how successful or rich he was, he'd always be number two son.

The sleep-deprived drummer stopped moving and turned on the bedside light. He was now staring at the high ceiling, watching the electric fan slowly spinning above while contemplating his annoyance of feeling tired yet unable to find rest. Pickles frustration was causing him to feel slightly feverish, as beads of sweat rolled down his brow. The bed sheet stuck to his skin, due to the constant heat friction. 

He sat up in the large bed and reached over for the remote to boost up the fan setting. Wearing nothing but his underwear, he felt the fresh burst of cooler air hit his face and chest. As he sighed and leaned back against the pillows, Pickles pondered about which of his favourite relaxation techniques he was going to turn to help him find the the warm embrace of slumberland. Then it suddenly dawned on him that he'd had a fresh delivery of pot that morning. When he'd put in his request with Charles for 'The really good, strong shit, theat was really difficult to getta hold aff!', he'd half expected himself to have aged five years, before it had arrived. Then he remembered that Charles had 'his ways' and his request had arrived a day later. God knows how many people died trying to get this stuff. Ah well! He shrugged his shoulders and reached over to the dresser. Inside the top drawer was a line of neatly rolled joints, ready to be used. 

Pickles smirked and said to himself: "Yep! Fuckin' livin' the dream Pickles old boy! Pre-rolled n' everything!" 

He grabbed one eagerly, placing it between his lips and fumbled around the rest of the drawer for a lighter. Once that was located and the joint was successfully lit, the redhead fell back against the pillows and gave a satisfying sigh as his lungs filled with smoke. 

As Pickles smoked his 'prized' weed, he felt himself go numb all over. The warm feeling spread throughout his body, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He smiled as he watched the smoke rings he'd created, float up to the ceiling, delicately ebbing away once contact was made. They had a strange, colourful aura about them. Almost hypnotic. For Pickles, this was pure bliss. Nothing could hurt him when he was in this state, even if the feeling didn't last long. Painful memories of the past and all anxieties about the future were off limits. He felt so free. 

As he came to the end of his joint, the high drummer made a mental note to send kudos to Charles for the awesome gear. The robot did good. Pickles stubbed out the finished joint on the dresser and then condemned it to somewhere in the depths of his room. What remained of the blunt collided with an empty beer can, causing a ringing-tin sound to play out for what seemed like eternity, as his senses were now heightened. He pulled the bed sheet loosely around himself and rode the rest of his high. He was becoming more aware of his breathing as he inhaled. Each breath brought in a deep sense of comfort, as the bed beneath him felt like it had disappeared. The floaty sensation stayed with Pickles, as he, finally after so long, started to drift off, with a relaxed grin on his face. 

***

Minutes after Pickles had finally succumbed to sleep, a hollow knocking on his bedroom door disturbed the peacefulness of the room. With a jolt, the drummer's eyes shot open as the knocking turned into panicked hammering. He sat up, brow furrowed and hands rubbing the back of his neck. The free-floaty feeling had gone and had been replaced by a combo of grogginess and annoyance. All his hard work to relax himself had been interrupted by some douchebag imitating his drumming skills on his door at Christ-a-fucking-clock! 

"WHAT!" Pickles screamed, causing the knocking to stop. He didn't care if it was an emergency. The poor-cocksucker on the other side of the door was going to get a shit storm heading his way.

"Pickle?" A tiny Norwegian voice replied. 

"Oh gahd!" The drummer muttered as the door opened and a pair of bloodshot, ice-blue eyes peeked round. Toki's red, blotchy cheeks confirmed he had been crying and his shaking hands on the door definitely confirmed he'd had a nightmare. 

"Cans I comes in?" Toki squeaked. 

Before Pickles could even respond, the Rhythm guitarist was already through the door. Standing in the centre of Pickle's huge bedroom, Toki was wearing a pair of pyjamas matching his eye colour. His usually neat, long, brunette hair was scruffy and draped over his tear-stained face.

Pickles didn't have the heart to scream at the pathetic sight in front of him, although he was still annoyed. 

"Whatcha want Toki," The drummer said flatly. While rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

"I has de nightscares. I sorrys Pickle, I wents to see Skwisgaar buts he has de companies."

"So yew thought yew'd bother me instead." Pickles made a mental note to personally 'thank' Skwisgaar for deciding to schedule a GMILF sex-fest on a bad dream night. The redhead knew that Toki had a habit of suffering with night-terrors and would hear all about these episodes the next day from Skwisgaar. Toki would frequently knock on Skwisgaar's door, when his dreams got too much and from what Pickles could gather, the Swede was starting to get irate from it all. 

"Pp-p-please cans I stays wit you tonights Pickle," Toki stammered. "Yours light was de onlys one thats on. I reallies donts wants to bes on my owns rights now and it was a reallies scaries dream-"

"Why can't ya have a nice dream fer once Toki, huh?!" Pickles interrupted, his head lowered, with his elbows resting on his knees as he sat up in bed. "Or just sleep peacefully and naht bother somebody tryin' ta fuckin' relax?! Or how 'bout ya figure out how ter deal with yer own damn prablems!" 

Pickles didn't realise how harsh his words were, until he raised his head back up to see the misery that was Dethklok's rhythm guitarist. Toki's eyes were laced with fresh tears and were starting to overspill down onto his cheeks. As he crossed his arms over his chest to rub his arms, the youngster turned to make his exit from the room. Pickles sighed as the guilt washed over him. He didn't mean to lash out so strongly, but Toki's timing was terrible. 

"Gahd, Toki wait! Fuck, I'm sahrry kid. I didn't mean ta be an asshole. I haven't had a great nights sleep either." The brunette looked back up with those famous puppy-like eyes, that even the strictest tyrant would have issues saying 'no' to. "Come ahn," The defeated drummer said, patting the space on the bed, next to him. 

"You reallies means its Pickle?!" A bewildered Toki exclaimed.

"Yeah, come and tell me 'bout yer dream before I change my mind!"

"Thanks you Pickle!" The relieved Scandinavian sprang up onto the bed and sat up next to Pickles. 

Pickles noticed that the younger man was calmer, but his breathing was still uneven from the shock of his nightmare. The drummer looked to the nightstand and pondered sharing his pot with Toki, but decided against it.

"Theat shits too strong fer Toki. Prabably send him into fuckin' space," He thought. His ears would have to do for now. 

A few seconds passed with the bandmates sat in silence, the only noise coming from Toki's hollow breaths. Toki had gathered his knees to his chest, while his eyes stared off into space. Pickles knew he was going to have to ease the guitarist into this conversation. He hoped that the sooner Toki talked, that there would be a slight glimmer of hope that he could go back to his regular struggles of trying to find sleep again.

"So...yew gonna tell me 'bout yer dream or do I have ta beat it outta yew?" Pickles suggested. Toki shifted awkwardly and muttered something that the redhead couldn't quite make out. "Kid, ya gonna have ta speak up a bit. Yew know ahm fuckin' old." 

Toki met the drummers eyes with slight amusement. "You nots old Pickle!"

"Compared ta yew ahm fuckin' ancient!" Toki giggled at Pickles admission. Relived to see the kid smile for the first time since he'd entered the room, Pickles repeated the question. 

"My parents," Toki answered. "It's always my parents. De nightscares are mores likes exagerbasted memories, from when I was a boy."

"Yew mean 'exaggerated'," Pickles corrected.

"Yeah ams what's I said, Exageraseded." Toki didn't notice the smirk on Pickles face as he continued. "I was doings my dailys chores as normals. Yous knows. Lifting de rocks and arrangings thems. Makings sure de fire woods ams stacked symmetricals. Sweepings de snow."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it Toki." The impatient drummer already knew of Toki's cruel chore list set by his 'loving' parents. 

"Anyways, de next things I knows," the Norwegian continued, "My parents ams stoods overs me. Dey looks even tallers than I remembers and their eyes, there ams no eyes! Just empty holes where theres shoulds be eyes, with blood spillings downs like tears," Pickles could see Toki's breathing was starting to become frantic, as his face started to crease with anxiety. "Dey tells me I has de devils sorceries insides me and I musts be kepts away from de pure folks!"

"Pure folks?!" Pickles interrupted, his nose wrinkling at the strange phrase. 

"Yeah ams what my fathers used to calls de goods peoples who gots intos heaven."

"Ooooh! Raight! Sahrry kid, continue."

"Dey say that my devils magic mades their eyes disappears, but I didnts do its Pickle! I knows I didnts!" Pickles placed his hand on Toki's shoulder to help calm him, his dreadlocks bouncing in agreement. "De next things I knows, my fathers grabs me by de shirts and drags me up de hills to de Punishments Hole!"

At that point Pickles felt himself fill with dread. Not only had the grim memory of the figures of Aslaug and Anja Wartooth resurfaced in his mind, but the tale of the Punishment Hole that he'd overheard Toki recall to Dr. Twinkletits was just unpleasant. 

"When we gets to de tops. My mothers alreadies there. She tells me that I cants hurts anyone's else anymores and starts slapings me across de face. That's when. That's when," Toki stopped and took deep breaths. The brunette looked like he was at the point of freaking out, but fought on and bravely continued his tale. "My fathers he starts sayings de Lords Prayer, as mothers lifts de lids of de holes. Then, my fathers, he grabs my shirts with both hands and, and..." Pickles hand was now tightly clamped on Toki's shoulder, as the youngster's tears started falling again. 

"It's okay kid," He quietly murmured as Toki paused before he finished.

"He throws me in heads firsts! And de darkness! It takes me Pickle! And I keep fallings and fallings! It gets darkers and darkers! and I can hears de loud scaries laughings before I hits de floors!"

Pickles didn't need to hear anymore. He moved his hand from Toki's shoulder and wrapped his arms around the youngsters back, enveloping him in a comforting embrace. Toki's tears had turned into full blown howls, as he cried into Pickles chest. The drummer was stood on his knees as he held Toki in the warm hug and stroked his flowing, brunette hair at the same time. Pickles didn't care if this appeared to be the least brutal thing in the world. And he certainly didn't care about Dethklok's 'no-caring about bandmates' rule right at this second. He imagined Nathan, walking in on the scene with an unimpressed frown, but then again that was a permanent fixture. Toki needed this. He needed to feel like someone cared and if that someone had to be Pickles then so be it. 

They stayed like that until Toki's sobs turned into small whimpers. Pickles slowly pushed the guitarist up. He hoped to give Toki an encouraging smile, but instead grimaced at the sight of the long snot trail, the end sticking to Pickles chest.

"Eww."

The grossed-out redhead held back the vomit in his throat, as he turned around from the disgusting line of yellow and green string, and reached over for the tissue box on the nightstand. He took a few for himself and then handed the box to Toki. Pickles cleaned himself up, then threw the snot-covered tissues on the floor, as Toki wiped his face, leaving red raw marks on his cheeks. The kid looked better, now the emotional overload was out of his system, as he played with the scrunched up the tissue in his hands and sniffed every few seconds. Reassured that Toki was now composed, Pickles decided to pursue the matter further.

"Toki, the last thing I wanna do is set yew aff again. I don't want my room lookin' like fuckin' Slimer's visited!" The child-like giggle confirmed it was okay for Pickles to continue. "It was just a dream kid, but I understand it must aff felt very real fer yew, givin' all the shit yew went through with those dooshbags. But it's a good thing yer dad's dead, cos if he came back I'd fuck him up so badly he'd be shittin' through his mouth! What they believed was wrong! Yer a good kid Toki and as ya go through life, the memories will get easier fer yew ta deal with, okay?" Toki looked up from staring at the bed sheets.

"Promise?" He sniffed.

"I pramise."

Pickles was then caught off guard by the air being squeezed out've his body by the freakishly-strong Norwegian, into a suffocating cuddle. As Toki nuzzled into the drummers chest, Pickles felt the blood flow stop from his chest upwards. Pickles Irish complexion turned into sunburnt red as Toki continued his death grip. 

"Dood. Can't. Breathe!" He wheezed. Toki abruptly let go and Pickles gave a deep sigh as the oxygen re-entered his lungs. 

"Sorries Pickle."

"So'kay." Pickles couldn't help but smile and ruffle the youngsters hair. "Feel better?"

"Ja."

"Good," Pickles said, as he stretched out a yawn. "Ah! Ya know what...fuck it! I need a drink!" He leant over the side of the queen-size bed. When he reappeared, Pickles brandished a fresh bottle of beer, with the cap already removed. "Yew want one?" Toki shook his head, declining the offer but smirked at how typical it was of the drummer to have a secret stash of booze hidden under his bed. Pickles chugged back the liquor and shuddered with pleasure, as it oozed down his parched throat. "Ah gahd, that's better!" 

"I dos have de goods dreams Pickle."

"What?"

"You asks me if I evers has goods dreams and Toki has lots of those. Deys nots always sad. I just hasn't hads many latelies." Toki seemed to have his regular chirpy nature back when he mentioned his 'goods' dreams and Pickles didn't want to risk losing that for another tears and snot display. He decided keeping him cheerful, as long as possible, was the best option.

"Do ya have a favourite?"

"Noes, they alls great." Toki instantly turned his head away and looked down reservedly at the floor, rubbing his arm shyly. Pickles noticed the redness from the tear stains on Toki's cheeks had changed to a flush of embarrassment. It was more obvious than Murderface's front tooth gap that the kid had a favourite dream, but was too shy to mention it.

"Come ahn dood. Yew bought up the subject."

"Amn'ts brutal. Yous laughs at Toki."

"Fuck theat shit fer now! The guys ain't here! It's just yew and me and I pramise I won't tell anybody!" Pickles encouraged, pointing the neck of his beer bottle at the guitarist.

"Wells....my bestests dreams ams de ones when I'ms...flying." Toki closed his eyes as he squeaked out the last word. Pickles couldn't stop the smile creeping over his face, when he heard Toki's admission. And he continued smiling, even when Toki looked back up and stared at the drummer, eyes full of paranoia. "See I tolds you, you laughs at Toki!" The brunette wailed, hiding his shamed face in his hands.

"Dood are yew kiddin'?! Theat's fuckin' awesome!" Pickles exclaimed, while bouncing on his knees excitedly. 

"You reallies thinks so?" Toki asked, moving his head up to peak through the gaps of his fingers. 

"Yeah kid! Come ahn!! Tell me 'bout it! Oh, hang ahn a sec." Pickles paused the 'goods' dreams conversation and downed the remaining half of his beer bottle, a talent that came naturally to the borderline alcoholic. After letting out a thundering belch, which he believed matched the passion of a lion's roar, Pickles launched the empty bottle to the opposite side of massive bedroom. Once he heard the bottle smashing into a hundred emerald pieces, he turned back to Toki. "A Klokateer will clean theat up tomarrow. Sahrry kid, yew were sayin'."

"Wells, de dream always starts de sames. I'm standings on snowys hilltop, not fars from wheres I grow ups. In de distance, theres ams nothings but snowys, covered fields and forests in fronts of me. Alls Toki wants to dos ams reach outs and touches de tops of de trees, so I stretches out my arms from wheres I standings." Toki's expression was blank and his gaze unfocused, as he recalled his favourite dream, like he'd been transported into it. "Then next things I knows I can feels de colds, snowys leaves of de tree tops under my fingers. I look downs and my foots ams danglings in de airs and I always feels so happys thats I floats overs the treetops and gets highers and highers. I so highs up thats I'm up with de stars and everythings so tiny belows me. De trees I was just touchings ams likes dots. And so ams de animals in de fields that looks likes cake frostings. I'm so happys so i dos my favourites things where I swoops down and spins at de sames time. I knows I smilings while I has been dreamings, because I wakes up smilings. Oh Pickle! Ams amazing! I wishes I could feels like thats all de times because I cants hurts from de horribles memories when I'm flying. I feels free!"

Pickles had been so engrossed in Toki's dream retelling, that he failed to notice his mouth was slightly agape. The entranced drummer sat with his legs folded underneath him, his hands resting in his lap and resembled a seven year old, who was listening in awe to his grandfathers war stories. As he came out've his trance, Pickles realised that he and Toki were not that dissimilar. Sure, he'd never encountered the horrific abuse that the Norwegian had endured as a child, but it seemed as though Toki was using his flying dream as an escape from all the hurt and pain he'd suffered over his short life. Similar to how Pickles was always looking for an out when it came to remembering the countless times his own parents had favoured Seth over himself. He just wished it was as easy as falling asleep, but drugs and booze was the next best medication in his book.

"Fuck kid. Do yew know how many narcotics I gotta take ta feel an inch of what yew just described! And yew can just go ta sleep and POOF! Ya there! That's a gift yew've got there," Pickles stated with fascination, but also with a hint of jealously.

"Nots lately I donts gos there," Toki sighed. "And whats you means? Everyone dos it's. Donts you ever have de goods dreams Pickle?"

Pickles was taken aback by the younger man's question and looked down at the bed sadly. "Um... naht really."

"Ohs come ons Pickle!" Toki pleaded. "You mades me tells mine!"

"Naah!"

At this point the drummer had laid back down and turned his head in the opposite direction, to avoid Toki's gaze, hands resting on his chest. "There's nothing ta tell."

"I bets its a reallies cool, awesome dreams that-"

"There's nothin' to tell kid, alrite!" Pickles sharply interrupted, looking back round at Toki, frustrated with eyes wide and brow furrowed. "There's nothin' to tell cos..." He paused and let out deep sigh. As he did so, his brow decreased and his cheerless face took over. "I don't dream okay. Ever. Good or bad."

"Whats do means Pickle?" A confused Toki said, looking down at the melancholy drummer.

Pickles felt hesitant to explain, but he guessed it was only fair since he'd pestered Toki into spilling his dream preferences. The drummers inability to dream dated back to when he was a young boy; When he realised that life was a constant parade of being shit on. He didn't know if it was linked to this depression, but the empty-blank nights stayed with him into adulthood. Although he didn't mind hearing about others' hilarious encounters of swimming in chocolate rivers or loosing their teeth, he'd be lying if he said it didn't bother him.

"I mean I go ta sleep, which is a fuckin' jahb in itself these days, and there's nothin' but a blank slate. Yew'd think theat I'd be fuckin' chasing pink elephants and rainbows after all the fuckin' booze I drink or the dope I smoke. But no! I lack a fuckin' basic human ability!" Pickles anger was building up as he described his repressed skill. "Do yew know how bad I wanna be able ta escape all the day-ta-day shit I face! Or the pain I had ta deal with my fuckin' asshole brother! It's the one simple thing theat every regular dildo does, every nite ta help them forget theat there lives are fuckin' miserable! And the fact theat I can't do something theat a regular jack-aff can makes me sick!" He turned abruptly onto his side, facing away from Toki, and pondered about grabbing another beer to calm his outburst.

"Pickle ams you cryings?"

"NO!" Came the redhead's high-pitched reply. "I'm perfectly fine!" He quickly wiped the moisture from his eyes and turned back to face Toki. "See! Naht crying!" Pickles knew he couldn't conceal his tears. Toki could be slow at times, but he certainly wasn't stupid. The red marks under Pickles eyes, not too dissimilar to Toki's earlier, were plain as day. Toki looked on at Pickles with sympathy, mouth slightly open.

"Oh Pickle. No wonders you takes alls de drugs. Ams so sads for you." 

Pickles was still lying down, his head now looking back up at the ceiling fan. A few of his dreads had slipped down onto his forehead and the bags under his eyes were a sign that the ageing drummer was sick and tired of his dreamless world. 

"I do drugs for lots of reasons Toki. And don't feel sahrry fer me. I guess ahm being punished or somethin', I dunno."

"Whys woulds you be punished? You dones nothings bad. Everyones knows you a greats person Pickle."

"Ahm really not."

"Ja you ams! You looks after alls of us! Even Nathans! Buts donts tell hims Toki says that." Pickles couldn't hold in the chuckle that escaped his mouth. The thought of their burly lead-singer, actually admitting that he needed someone to remind him when he was acting like an asshole, was actually quite hilarious. Then it dawned on Pickles that this was a regular occurrence. Just like he had to keep reminding Murderface that leaving his bowie knifes at the bottom of the communal hot tub was just plain dumb and irritating.

"Ands mosts importancelies, you likes a big brothers to Toki." The smile brought on from the chuckle quickly disappeared, as Pickles grimaced at that word. He knew Toki meant well, but that word, 'brother', and everything associated with it, gave the drummer a sickly, queasy feeling as Seth's eerie image came into his mind. "You looks after mes when I joins Dethklok. Toki's was scareds you alls thoughts Toki ams'nt goods enough. But yous told mes that I was goods enoughs." Another crooked smile remerged and stretched across Pickles face. His mind flew back to the old Mordhaus, where his younger self and an even younger Toki were sat on the living room floor, going over tricky guitar chords, until the youngster knew them off by heart. 

"You always sticks up for Toki when Skwisgaar and Moiderface ams making de funs of me. Do you remembers what you calls Moiderface whens he calls me a lazys piece of shits?"

"Think it was along the lines aff 'A fat, stinky turd that refuses ta go away, no matter how many times yew flush."

Toki erupted into cackled laughter, which was too infectious for Pickles to ignore. His shoulders began to shake as the laughter escaped his mouth, joining Toki, as they recalled a scolded Murderface smashing up random sculptures and paintings, as he stormed off down the hallway.

"You helps Toki so manys times. It's times for Toki to helps you," The guitarist vowed. "I helps you finds your dreams Pickle."

"Toki. Okay look, even if it was passible to 'find my dreams' as yew put it, yew honestly think that...Toki...what the fuck are ya doin!" Pickles was interrupted as the Norwegian had laid down next to him and was resting his head on the drummers shoulder. 

"Ams going to dreams shares withs you," Toki chirped as he nuzzled into Pickles side, stretching his arm across Pickles belly.

"What?!" Pickles had both arms raised up, as Toki got comfy, not knowing where to put them. 

"You cans shares my dreams Pickle. Rests your head on mines and then when's you sleeps, my dreams ams your dreams."

Pickles tried to stifle back a bewildered chuckle. "Toki, I don't think dreamin' works theat way."

"Hows woulds you know?!" Toki barked up at the redhead. "You haves nos dreams in forever! I has them alls de times, so I knows mores than you!"

Firmly put in his place by the 'dreams' expert, Pickles rolled his eyes and let out a defeated sigh. 

"Okay, fine," He said as he carefully lowered his arms back down. The drummer slowly, albeit awkwardly, placed one arm around Toki.

"You hads no problems hugging Toki earliers Pickle," The guitarist commented at Pickles sudden burst of machoism.

"Yew were upset! There's a difference! This way is like, I dunno, out've-"

"Love!" 

The cringing Pickles gnashed his teeth together and closed his eyes tightly, as Toki finished the drummers sentence with a different word.

"Gah! Don't make it weirder than it already is kid! And if anybody comes in, what do yew tell' em?"

"Thats I thoughts you odeed and I checks your heartsbeats to makes sure yous not dead," The brunette said while pulling up the bed sheets over the two them. 

"Correct answer." Pickles slid down the pillows into a comfier position, then slowly rested his head onto Toki's. 

It actually felt quite nice and he did find himself, for once, getting quite sleepy. So sleepy that he couldn't even be bothered to stretch a few inches to turn the light out.

"Pickle?"

"Hmmm."

"Thanks you for helpings me."

With a tired grin Pickles replied, "Nah, thank yew for helpin' me. Now get some sleep yew little dooshbag."

Before he had time to think, the relaxed-floaty feeling was back and nursed Pickles into a deep-calming sleep.

 

***

A few hours later Pickles awoke with a jolt. Something had happened. Wide eyed he tried to recall what that something was that had drawn him from his coma. He'd fallen. No, he'd ran into something. No, he hadn't been running, but his head had struck something. The confused drummer brought his free hand to his face, rubbing his eyebrow piercings, as he tried to figure out what he'd collided with. A tree trunk. No, a tree branch had gotten in his way. He moved his hand up to his forehead, expecting to find the cut or bump, which had forced him to black out. But there was nothing. No blood, no lacerations and definitely no pain when he touched the affected area. 

'Stoopid tree branch, gettin' all the way up there while ahm tryin' ta concentrate!' He thought. 'There's Toki sayin' how great ahm gettin' at flyin' and then that fuckin'-' Pickles paused his thoughts suddenly as he went wide-eyed. It finally dawned on him that he'd been dreaming and it was a vivid one. And not just any dream. A fucking flying dream. 

Pickles couldn't decide what freaked him out more. The fact that he'd experienced his first dream in forever or that every single detail had matched Toki's flying dream. The snowy trees; the starry night against the Norwegian landscape; the exhilarating feeling of looking down at the tiny world below. There was no pain from the past; no anxieties for the future. Just him and Toki giggling, as they flew into the night sky. Everything the kid had said was true. That was until Pickles had tried the kid's swoop and spin technique and crashed into the tree branch.

Without moving his head, his wide-eyes stared down to the bundle under his arm. Toki was snoozing peacefully, his head still resting on Pickles shoulder, while wearing a broad smile. The little goofball's dream technique had worked. 

"Holy shit! Toki's a fuckin' wizard or somethin'! How the fuck did he do theat?!" The freaked-out drummer thought. Maybe Toki's parents were right. Maybe there was devil's magic in him. But the kid had such an adorable charm about him, that there was no way he could be evil. If anything, he was special. Magical being or not. 

And Toki was right. He was his brother and for once that word didn't hurt Pickles. That word, had a new association now. The redhead realised that having a brother wasn't a competition of trying to out do each other for their parents approval or treating each other like shit; although he was sure that was really a one-way street where Seth was concerned. Brothers were meant to look out and help each other, just like Toki had done for him, whether in reality or in the realms of dreamland. There was no point in trying to mend his relationship with Seth. That ship had sailed a long time ago. But with Toki, and even the rest of Dethklok, they had that special relationship. But god forbid any of them would say that out loud. Feelings were gay.

Pickles looked back down at Toki. He noticed that the youngster was still grinning as he slept on. 

"He must still be flyin'," Pickles pondered. 

Not wanting to miss out, Pickles resumed his position, resting his head on Toki's, with his arm wrapped back around the rhythm guitarist.

"Little dooshbag," He yawned. "I'll kick his ass tomorrow for puttin' theat tree branch there." Pickles smiled as he drifted off to rejoin Toki in his dream world.


End file.
